


Tender Feelings

by LittleLinor



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Body Horror, Consensual Kink, F/M, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in a relationship with a demon has some tasty perks</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender Feelings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [o0whitelily0o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0whitelily0o/gifts).



"Are you quite sure, Miss Mari?"  
You shake your head, more fondness than exasperation.  
"I thought you'd dropped the honorifics."  
He smiles.  
"My apologies. It slips out occasionally. Well, then, Mari. Are you sure?"  
"Yes, I'm sure." You push yourself up on tiptoes to kiss him. "I've sustained worse injuries fighting Metatron. Don't worry."  
You probably shouldn't be surprised when he picks you up effortlessly and carries you with only one arm, but you gasp and laugh anyway. You like the way things like these have become casual, domestic. You like that the world that Kazuya has wrought has allowed you things like this.  
Kresnik carries you to the room closest to the center of the house, and spreads the heavy curtains over the walls for extra sound insulation before sitting on the small couch with you still in his hands. You smile happily; curtains mean he has understood your intent, that he doesn't plan to hold back on you.  
Just like you like it.  
He sits you down on his lap, head and back safely cuddled into one of his arms.  
"A simple 'no' or 'stop' will do. I'd rather not take unnecessary risks. Is that all right?"  
"Of course." You hold out your hand for him, and he takes it in his own to kiss its back. You chuckle, blushing a little. "Thank you, Kresnik."  
"My pleasure."  
He keeps kissing, up your wrist, up your arm. Your breath quickens in expectation as his mouth reaches the area where tendons make way for actual muscles, swelling into actual flesh. He tightens his yet-delicate grip on your wrist, and you bite your lip in anticipation.  
The first bite of pain is sharp. His fangs pierce through the skin and you whimper through tight lips, heart beating hard against your ribs. His teeth sink deeper. The pain spreads, duller but heavier, bruising, spreading through your arm and to your very bone. You watch the blood well up to stain his mouth and try to keep your breath and body under control for what you know comes next.  
His jaw clenches shut, crushing your flesh and skin between his teeth.  
The scream is out of your throat before you can even think to stop it; your head tries to snap back, but you don't want to look away, to miss the sight of his teeth emerging from your arm; you press it sideways against his shoulder instead and keep your eyes straight, fixated on his mouth as you pant and moan into his chest.  
This isn't like the battlefield. There is no determination and adrenaline to dull your sensations and focus your reflexes; you're overly sensitive, from arousal and anticipation, and he's slow, deliberately so, slow enough not to jam your senses.  
You feel everything: the crushing pain along the line of his teeth, the jerk in your wrist and fingers and elbow as the muscle he's hooked on pulls on its tendons before breaking, his fangs tearing through your flesh as he tugs and pulls back, mouth closed around bloody meat that was, until a second ago, still part of your arm.  
You're still crying out, almost absently, shaky sounds that drift out of you as your consciousness stays fixed on him, his mouth, your arm and its now gaping wound.  
He looks you in the eye, grounds the meat between his teeth, and swallows.

You're dizzy. It takes you several seconds to realise you've stopped breathing when you saw his throat move, and you only start again when he's kissing you, smearing your own blood over your lips and tongue.  
You're used to the taste by now, but feeling it on your tongue, with the knowledge of what just went through his mouth, makes you shudder.  
"Mari?"  
He's pulled back, and the fingers of the hand holding your head are rubbing little circles into your scalp.  
"I'm--" You gasp and pant, let yourself moan until you can find your voice again. You know he'll wait. "I'm... fine."  
It's the truth, too. Your whole body is abuzz with shock and pain and arousal, your mind halfway between sharply focused and happily drifting.  
He kisses your forehead.  
"Is this what you wanted?"  
You need to take another moment to compose yourself, but after a few seconds you answer him.  
"Yes." And after a shudder: "Keep going."

He nods and moves back to your arm. It's bleeding profusely, and the first thing he does is lick and suck the blood away from the area, clearing the view. You focus on staying as awake and aware as you can. You want to experience every sensation, and drifting too far would make that impossible.  
Finally, when most of the blood has been cleared away, he settles on the same spot and makes sure to raise it well into view before biting into the deeper part of your arm.  
You're choking and gasping, fighting not to move and watching, watching his lower fangs hook under a muscle and pull it away from the bone. It tugs at your thumb, pulls it towards your arm, and when he bites harder and jerks his mouthful free, you feel some kind of tear in your upper arm, a tug of pain above the elbow. Kresnik swallows, and before you have time to brace yourself he's down again, biting through the skin at the edge of your wound, widening the hole with another mouthful.  
You realise you can't feel half of your hand anymore. You try to move it, in vain. The other half twitches, but the one you're focusing on, the one you can still see in Kresnik's hold, could just as well not exist anymore if you closed your eyes.  
It brings laughter rising from deep inside your stomach, nervous, blissful, giddy laughter that shakes you and mixes with the pain still radiating through your arm.  
He looks at you questioningly and you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. You're not sure how many words you have left in you.

He twists your arm a little and bites another hole into your arm. You've given up on any control over your reactions and just ride them, let your giggles continue as they mix with choked gasps and the occasional sob. You just watch, face and shoulder cuddled against his arm, watch his mouth as he straightens, his teeth working at the flesh inside it, watch him swallow and lick his lips. Through the shock and pain numbing your body, you feel a wave of something almost like protectiveness, like pride. You want, suddenly, to ask him how it tastes.  
Instead you subtly twist what you still control of your arm a bit further so he knows to keep going, and he takes the hint, tearing off a chunk of skin before chewing at the flesh underneath. He works through you, and that is a sensation unlike any other, more intimate and intense and dizzying than even his first bite. You can barely breathe anymore, small, hurried pants fighting with tiny high pitched whines for the air in your lungs. You'll have to tell him, when you try this again, to do that and keep going for a while. Maybe somewhere other than your arm.  
From this angle, you can see his first gash in your arm, the dripping gape with bone showing underneath. Shreds of skin still hang off its edges, and torn flesh underneath, unable to keep hugging the bone with their tension taken away.  
Your vision blurs for a second. You've lost too much blood to go on for much longer. But you don't want to give up yet.  
"Kresnik..."  
Your voice is faint and laboured, but he hears you all the same, swallows what he was biting on, and straightens to look at you. You nod towards the inside of your arm, the flesh hanging from it.  
"Tear... tear it out..." You gasp, fight to stay awake. "Don't just... bite through... pull... it out."  
"... as you wish."  
He kisses your cheek, and you're glad he's not human, that usual concerns of morality don't occur to him, that the only thing he worries about are his consent and yours, and your safety to go with it. Will really is the limit, when it comes to demons, and it's both dangerous and wonderful, when you have the respect and trust to go with it.

You would brace, but you're drifting too far by now, and all you can do is watch as he lowers his mouth to your bloody arm again, as he sinks teeth into you again, limp and abandoned and shivering.  
He clenches his jaw and yanks. Pain tears through your arm all the way to your elbow and you're screaming again, hoarse, the pain sharp enough to cut through the bruising soreness that had spread through your body. You feel the muscle tear, give, and then it's gone, and you with it, too far in shock to fight the blurriness in your sight or the sobs in your chest. Your arm, what you can still feel of it, is a giant shred of pain, hanging limply from your shoulder and Kresnik's hand, and your body is buzzing, dazed, fading...  
You feel warmth spreading through your arm, your chest, and barely feel the magic begin its work before you lose consciousness.

When you wake up, it's still warmth that you register first and foremost. Warmth through your body, bone deep, warmth against your skin, where you're still being held. You open your eyes tentatively.  
He smiles down at you. You try to reach up to caress his face, but your arm--you can feel it again, you confirm with an edge of relief--doesn't quite answer you yet. He chuckles and bends down to kiss you instead.  
"Was it to your liking?" he asks when he lets you go.  
"Yes." You grin. "Was it tasty?"  
"You know the taste is hardly the most interesting aspect in doing this with you."  
"Well, I was _hoping_ that would be the case." You curl up closer to his chest, and sigh happily when he tightens his hold. "Thank you."  
"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine."  
"... I'm going to take up more of your time..."  
"I expected that." He kisses your forehead again, making you feel both very small and tired and very happy. "Rest. We can get you a bath afterwards."  
A bath. Right. Blood.  
You decide to take him up on his offer, and worry about how to take it out of your clothes later.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not apologising for that title. Also there's [the original picture](http://uselesslilium.tumblr.com/post/101683060509/g-i-v-e-me-vore-orz) that inspired this.


End file.
